


Zephyros

by dotfic



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Gen, POV Female Character, Post-Movie(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 07:12:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5617918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dotfic/pseuds/dotfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the first time in a while, Rey stopped moving.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Zephyros

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to janiedean for the beta.

There were a few days when everyone around Rey seemed to hum with activity, almost like the engine of a ship; this, when for the first time in a while, Rey stopped moving. Not that she couldn’t have helped with any number of tasks, if anyone had asked her, or if she could figure out how to ask. However, the Resistance base’s activities since the Starkiller’s destruction and the discovery of the complete map held its own momentum and she was on the shore, watching a river rush past. 

Here on D’Qar time felt like water to Rey, moving slower or faster, more textured than the sameness of the days on Jakku’s sand-blown surface. She needed no marks on the wall to keep track of its passage. 

It was strange to be in a place with that many kind faces, where she had all she needed to eat. Also D’Qar was so very, very green. Rey would never get enough of that. Climbing the hills, lush with vines and trees, eased the gnawing of worry in her gut about Finn. He was alive, yes—healing slowly, so Dr. Kalonia told her—yet he lay so very still. Finn, who was all movement and energy, shouldn’t be that still for that long. It was frightening in ways Rey hadn’t experienced.

One morning she went to the medical bay to check on him and found a dark-haired X-Wing pilot already there, seated with his elbows on his knees, head bowed. He wore a vest over a dark shirt, well-fitting pants, and thick-treaded boots.

Rey cleared her throat before speaking. “You must be Poe Dameron.”

He raised his head and looked at her, and his face brightened. “You must be Rey.” He stood, a fluid and graceful movement, and reached out to shake her hand. His grasp was dry and warm as he squeezed her hand tight.

“Is he better? Any change?”

“No, nothing.” He let go of her. “I think it must help having someone sit with him.” Poe stood at Rey’s shoulder as they listened to the beep of the medical bay’s machines. “Where his mind is right now,” Poe added softly, “it must be lonely. But there’s strong life in him, so there’s hope.”

Someone out in the corridor shouted, “Poe, briefing in five,” and the pilot turned away reluctantly.

Almost at the door, he paused to watch Finn a few stretched-out moments more. Then Poe twitched his shoulders and left.

The knot of worry in Rey’s stomach had lightened a little with Poe Dameron in the room, but in his absence it settled in again, like being hungry, like the days on Jakku when her scavenging found nothing or sandstorms kept her from the hunt so she had nothing to eat, only this was much worse.

“Please wake up, Finn,” she said very quietly, sinking into the chair. “Please, please wake up.” She took his limp hand, pressed it between both of hers. “Wake up, wake up, wake up.”

* * *

Someone from tech — after she begged — found Rey a task helping with the repairs on a battered old Y-Wing, much to her relief. She was elbow-deep inside a mass of wiring, grease streaked on her skin, when someone approached the ship.

“Rey.”

“General Organa!” Rey immediately pulled her hands out of the ship’s innards and rubbed her fingers on her pants to get rid of the grease, which of course didn’t work. Still, it seemed proper to try.

“You can call me Leia.” She smiled a small, kind smile, her eyes sad. “We’re practically family, Rey.” The General's glance went to the cart of tools, then back to Rey. “I know how much he meant to you.”

Something sharp and heavy caught in Rey’s chest, a jab from the memory of Han Solo standing on the shores of a lake, green all around them, offering her a place in the world, a regular task beyond stealing bits of metal so she could eat so she could steal more bits of metal so she could eat. It hadn’t occurred to her before how much she actually despised Jakku, deep down—her tie to it had been waiting for a family that would never return.

“He…” she wasn’t sure what to say. “He was kind to me,” she said.

“He was fond of you.” General Organa put her hand on Rey’s shoulder. “Come with me. I have a job for you.”

“A job?” Rey closed her toolbox carefully, putting everything back in the correct slot, and had to hurry to keep up with the General. 

“A mission.” General Organa led Rey into the command room, which was almost empty at the moment except a skeleton crew watching the radars and waiting for any incoming transmissions. “We delayed going after Luke a few days, to make sure the First Order wasn’t planning a major immediate retaliation. We’ve waited long enough.” She pressed the data chips into Rey’s hand, closing her fingers closed around them. The General’s hands were calloused from holding weapons, worn, but elegant and strong. “Go find Luke.”

A soft chuffing sound came from nearby. Rey turned and Chewbacca joined them at the war table. 

_I have something for you too,_ Chewbacca said. He patted at his fur, pulling something out of a pouch on his bandolier. Another data chip.

“What is this?” Rey asked, as Chewbacca held it out to her. She took it, turning it over in her fingers. It was much, much older tech than the chips Leia had given her for the maps. About one-quarter the data storage, the casing intact but any markings were almost faded away.

_Your piece of the deed to the Falcon,_ Chewbacca said. _Don’t get any funny ideas, child. A majority of the shares are mine and Leia’s._

“Han left instructions,” General Organa said, something thick in her voice, and a waver so faint Rey might have imagined it. “The Millennium Falcon passes to Chewbacca and to me. Chewbacca owns most of it. We discussed it, though, and decided to each give you some of our shares.”

“I…what?”

“Yes. You own a small part of her now. I’m asking you and Chewbacca to use the Falcon for your mission. She’s the fastest, and she’s kept us all alive more times than I can count.”

Rey couldn’t breathe. She owned part of a ship. Not just any ship. _The_ ship. 

She turned towards Chewbacca. “Can I pilot her?” 

_On the trip out. You’re a decent pilot._ Chewbacca clapped her lightly on the back, making her stagger, and he chuffed a laugh. _Don’t get a swelled head._

* * *

When Rey went to visit Finn, Poe was there in his orange flight suit, just standing and looking down at him. The life-support machines beeped in the quiet.

“I don’t know how long this will take,” Rey said. Her shoulder just touched the top of Poe’s arm.

“I’ll keep checking on him.” Poe reached for her hand, gave it a quick squeeze, and let go.

The little knot of worry inside of Rey loosened somewhat. She swallowed down tears; this wasn’t the time for tears.

“May the force be with you,” she told Poe, and left quickly.

* * *

The clothes were left outside the door to her quarters, neatly folded, no note or sign of where they’d come from. They were more and nicer than anything she had ever owned at once. One set for the cold, one for hot, one for in-between. 

She gathered them up into a pack, and went to the Falcon ahead of schedule. Rey stowed the bag under her bunk, then walked through the ship. She opened the compartments in the small but efficient galley, poked her head into the maintenance crawlway, turned on the holo board, moved a few figures, switched it off again. 

The Falcon smelled of metal and a hint of grease, similar to the wrecks she’d called home or crawled around in while hunting for parts to trade, without the acrid dryness or smell of dust and neglect. Also, the Falcon _breathed_. The ruins of an Imperial Destroyer or an AT-AT Walker were only the carapace of living craft. The structures were mostly intact, but they were hollow except for herself or the occasional desert creature or fellow scavenger. 

The Falcon, at rest, had a quiet hum to it, a ricochet of life. There was no audible heartbeat, but it had a cadence almost like one. Maz had told her the Force was everywhere — maybe it was in ships too. Maybe what she was hearing was the Millennium Falcon itself, as an entity. It seemed like a strange concept—Rey had spent her life working with machinery and never had a thought like that, although sometimes her speeder had a kind of _thereness_ , where she’d felt connected to it as she didn’t with machines that were unfamiliar to her, or beyond repair and would never work again.

She followed the curving walkway over the hidden storage compartments, then went along the passage to the cockpit, which was full of sunlight.

Rey looked out through the view shield down at the tarmac and saw General Organa—Leia—hugging Chewbacca, almost vanishing for a moment in a mass of fur before she moved back, smiling up at him. She reached to cup the side of his face with her palm before she drew away. 

Leia glanced up, spotted Rey standing in the cockpit, and waved. 

A grin burst from Rey, breaking through the sadness, and her whole body felt it. She waved back.

Then she heard Chewbacca calling out a greeting as he headed up the starboard entry ramp, and the beeps from R2-D2, following.

Chewbacca joined her in the cockpit and Rey started the take-off sequence. The ship went awake around her, under her, above her, displays and lights and engines.

For the first time in a very long time, it felt like home.

**Author's Note:**

> Note: West End Games' Millennium Falcon schematic used as reference.


End file.
